Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
I pulled the ring from my cut pocket, the one I’d kept locked away for years. Not a property patch. Not a mark of ownership. A promise.
Her hands flew to her mouth, tears spilling before she could even speak.
“Yes,” she whispered. Then louder, her voice breaking with joy. “Yes, Gonzo. A thousand times yes.”
The room exploded—cheers, whistles, the pounding of fists on the table. GJ whooped louder than anyone, grinning from ear to ear. Burn raised his bottle, Tower bellowed, Disciple muttered a prayer of thanks, and even Waverly cracked a smile wide enough to see from across the room.
I slid the ring onto her finger, stood, and kissed her like the world needed to see how real it was.
We partied after that, like Outlaws do. Music louder, laughter rougher, bottles emptied faster. The night belonged to us. To her. To the vow I’d made.
But every party has its shadow.
I was behind the bar, arm draped around IvaLeigh’s shoulders, when the sound cut through the noise—Loco’s voice, sharp, angry, breaking in the front lot.
“You can’t leave!” he roared.
The room froze. Brothers exchanged glances. IvaLeigh’s hand tightened on my arm.
We all moved, a tide of cuts spilling through the doorway into the night.
Out front, under the glow of the security lights, Loco stood in the lot, fists clenched, eyes burning. And across from him—Juanita Banks.
Her suitcase sat on the pavement by her feet, rental car idling. Her face was set, but her eyes carried the kind of storm only history can bring.
“You saved my sister,” Juanita said, her voice steady, carrying. “I owed you a marker. We’re even, Dante. I’m leaving you behind for good this time.”
Loco shook his head, stepping forward like he could stop her with sheer will. “No. Don’t do this.”
She bent, lifted her suitcase, and looked at him one last time. “I already did.”
And then she turned. Walked to the car. Slid behind the wheel.
The engine revved, tires crunching gravel, and then she was gone.
Loco stood there, chest heaving, eyes wild. Then he swung a leg over his bike, ripped it to life, and tore out of the lot like a man trying to outrun his own shadow.
The lot stayed silent long after the sound of his pipes faded into the night.
I felt Iva shift against me, her hand slipping into mine. She looked up at me, eyes soft, voice quiet but steady. “I know this hurts for your brother,” she stated. “But it means he cares. That’s the thing about all of you—underneath the outlaw is a saint. You just have to find the right partner to bring it out. Loco will be okay.”
I stared down at her, my chest tight with the weight of what I didn’t deserve. “How did I get so lucky? To have someone who can see beyond the darkness in me?”
She smiled through her tears, mischief flickering even now. “Because you’re sexy.”
I barked a laugh, low and rough, then leaned down and kissed her hard, like vows and ghosts and loss and brothers all had to wait their turn behind this moment.
Because for once, the future didn’t feel like a death sentence.
It felt like life.
For her. For me. For us.
For life.
The End